Vendetta in Death (In Death 49)

“Sleeping. Finally sleeping.” Geena started down, hesitated, swayed.

Rising, Roarke moved to the stairs and up to take her arm. “Let me help you.”

“Nothing seems real. It feels as if I might take a step and fall off the world.”

“I’m so very sorry,” he said as he led her to a chair. “Shall I get you some water?”

“I— Francie?”

“Some tea.” Francie took a mini remote from her pocket. “You’ve barely eaten all day.” Her tone turned matter-of-fact.

A smart move, Eve decided, as Geena looked as if she needed to be reminded to breathe in and out.

When the droid came in, Francie ordered tea. “A pot, as I could use some myself. And perhaps our … guests would like a cup.”

“You said …” Geena looked around blankly, finally focused on Eve. “I can’t remember who you are.”

“Lieutenant Dallas. Ms. McEnroy—”

“Oh yes, of course. The girls nagged and nagged to see the vid, the one about the clones, so I screened it. I thought it too violent and frightening for them. They’re too young. I don’t want them exposed to—But now. Oh God, now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. McEnroy, and I know this is a very difficult time, but we need to ask you some questions.”

“I don’t understand any of it. How can I have answers when I don’t understand? The girls ask and ask where their father went. Why can’t he come back? Why did he have to die? Was he sick? Did he fall down? And I can’t answer. What do I tell them?”

“That’s for you to say.”

“But I don’t know. You said someone … but I don’t understand why anyone would hurt him. Was it a robbery? Was it—”

“We don’t believe robbery was a motive.” Deal with it, Eve thought as the droid wheeled in a tea cart. Stringing it out only prolonged pain.

“Your husband was killed in a location unknown at this time, then his body was transported back to this building and left outside. We’ve traced his movements on the night of his death. He left the building at approximately nine-eighteen P.M., took a limo to a club called This Place, where he had reserved a VIP booth. A privacy booth.”

“A—a business meeting.” Geena’s voice wavered as she spoke, and her eyes pleaded for Eve to agree.

“No, not a business meeting. We’ve confirmed Mr. McEnroy frequented This Place and other venues for the purpose of acquiring women for sexual activities.”

“That’s not true.” Flushes of color, high and bright, rode her cheekbones. “I won’t have you slander my husband, the father of my children. I won’t have it.”

Blind eye, Eve thought. Deliberately, desperately blind.

“We’ve confirmed, with evidence and with firsthand accounts, what he did, where he did it, and in many cases already with whom. You were aware of his proclivities, Ms. McEnroy. Attempting to protect your husband now also protects his killer. It’s my job, my duty, my purpose to find his killer and bring that individual to justice.”

“Do you think I care about your duty?” Her voice pitched high as the color on her cheeks. “You’d destroy a man’s reputation for your duty? Destroy his family?”

“Your husband hunted women for sport,” Eve snapped out. “He used them like toys. He drugged them, and in many cases brought them to your bed, recording the sex for his private library—and to humiliate them, to prevent them from taking action against him. Were you unaware of this?”

“You’re lying!” She hissed it out, a venomous snake with terrified eyes. “You’re a liar.”

“Geena.” Roarke spoke softly even as Francie rushed over to sit on the arm of Geena’s chair, wrap an arm around her. “This is a terrible time for you, and these are horrendous shocks, one after another. Someone killed your husband out of a twisted sense of justice that is in reality revenge. The lieutenant’s purpose is justice. She’ll stand for your husband, work to find the person who took him from you and your children.”

“She’s saying terrible things about him.”

“You loved him very much. That only made it more difficult for you, more painful when he was unfaithful. You understood, through all that, he loved you and your children.”

“He did! He did!” Weeping now, she buried her face against Francie. “He wasn’t perfect. None of us is perfect. He had a weakness, but he fought it. For me, for the girls, he fought it. And he stopped. He swore to me he stopped.”

“You have some tea.” Gently, Francie drew away, picked up the cup to press it on Geena. “Dry your eyes now and have some tea.”